


Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It)

by rebelmeg



Series: Rebelmeg's TSB Fills 2020 [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bonding, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Feels, Child Abuse, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Bruce Banner, Kid Tony Stark, Kidnapping, Marvel Cameos, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Parent Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Recovery, Remix, Rescue, The Avengers (2012) - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Witnessing a death, but the good kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: James and his (somewhat stolen) son Tony have been living happy lives under the radar for the past five years.  They move a lot, and leave a lot of friends behind, but then Tony meets a little boy named Bruce.  In another world, James and Tony might move on, though it breaks their hearts to have to say goodbye to the scared, hurting little boy that is Tony's best friend.In this world, however... they don't say goodbye.A remix of "How to Save a Life (It Just Might Be Yours", in which James and Tony didn't leave Bruce behind...
Relationships: Bruce Banner & James "Bucky" Barnes, Bruce Banner & James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark
Series: Rebelmeg's TSB Fills 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591063
Comments: 116
Kudos: 208
Collections: Bruce Banner Bingo 2019, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	1. A New Start, A New Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pyrone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrone/gifts), [singmetosleep (stark_raving_mad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stark_raving_mad/gifts), [crazyinfj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyinfj/gifts).
  * Inspired by [How To Save A Life (It Just Might Be Yours)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009707) by [rebelmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg). 



> Please mind the tags, ducklings. Bruce (as per canon) is from an abusive home. There will be non-graphic descriptions of that, and also the recovery after he is removed from the situation. A few more tags will be added, but nothing big, it's mostly for minor characters coming later.
> 
> Thanks to eachpeachpearplum and huntress79 for helping me brainstorm and figure out the tough bits! And to Faustess and Skye for being my wonderful betas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter crosses off my Bruce Bingo square U5 – Tony Stark/Iron Man**

_Summer 1975_

James couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind his hand as he watched Tony pace back and forth, back and forth, apparently set on wearing a path in the carpet between the couch and the TV.

Back and forth, back and forth, his hands behind his back and a frown line between his eyebrows. He would not be pleased if James called it cute, he was sure, so James kept his smile hidden as he worked on unpacking a box of odds and ends.

They had only been living in this small house in Wisconsin for a few weeks now, and Tony had already found his new best friend. There were empty boxes all over the place, and half the kitchen hadn’t been unpacked yet, but Tony had a standing playdate in the afternoons with a little boy his age named Bruce.

* * *

They had met Bruce when James and Tony had gone over to the local school to get Tony signed up for the new school year. The two Buchannan's had spent most of the summer traveling, going from place to place with their truck and tiny camper. They had stopped anywhere that interested them, which was something James hadn’t really had the opportunity to experience before, going all the way south and playing on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico in Alabama. Then they had turned around and slowly gone all the way back up, to the top of Wisconsin where they played in the much cooler waters of Lake Superior. It was the beginning of August, which meant that Tony would be starting kindergarten soon, so James had sold the camper and found them the little house to live in.

On their way home from getting Tony registered, they had noticed a little boy with curly black hair, sitting alone in the sandbox on the playground. Tony had spied the sandbox on the way in, already bargained for some time to play, and had gone running for it with a grin on his face, shouting, “Hi, my name is Tony!”

The other little boy had startled, looking scared for a moment as Tony jumped into the sand next to him, chattering away. James sat down on the grass a short distance away, smiling a little as he watched his son make a new friend. Within minutes, Tony had coaxed a name out of his new friend (Bruce), his favorite color (purple), what he liked to do (play), and where he lived (a couple blocks away). 

Half an hour later, when James had told Tony it was time to go, Bruce had watched Tony go with such big, longing eyes that James had told him they would come back tomorrow to play again, if he wanted. Bruce hadn’t met his eyes, looking downright scared of even being in James’ presence, but James didn’t let it bother him. A big man wearing long sleeves and gloves in the summer was suspicious anyway, never mind the “grumpy face” that Tony told his dad he had on a lot. Bruce had shifted his eyes to Tony apprehensively, but nodded. 

For a week, James walked Tony over to the school playground after lunch, and every day Bruce had been sitting there waiting for them. He was painfully shy at first, not even looking at James at all, but soon he would stand up and smile when he saw them coming. 

James had wondered often about the boy’s parents, who they were, and if maybe one of them worked at the school, which was why Bruce was always at the playground. But he hadn’t asked, since Bruce still seemed borderline terrified of him. He always jumped if James approached unexpectedly, and though it was subtle, he kept a distance of at least five feet between himself and James at all times. So James hadn’t pressed the poor kid for information, seeing no reason for it at the time.

But last week, after Tony had brought up the idea of a sleepover, since school would be starting soon, James had decided that he needed to meet Bruce’s parents. He was paranoid, for good reasons, and didn’t even allow Tony to play with new kids alone. He’d never allowed him to play at a friend’s house without meeting their parents several times. He much preferred to have Tony’s friends come to his own house, and if Tony wanted a sleepover, there was no chance it was happening anywhere else. So he wanted to meet Bruce’s parents, and at least get to know them a little before he suggested that Bruce sleep over. It was common courtesy.

After briefly meeting Bruce’s mother, Mrs. Banner, a few things about Bruce started to make sense.

James and Tony had stopped by Bruce’s house unannounced, half an hour before the boys usually met and played at the playground. The woman that answered the door had been thin, tired-looking, and had big scared eyes just like her son. It had made James feel instantly uneasy, almost afraid in the face of this woman’s fear. His paranoia had him instantly jumping to every worrisome conclusion there was, and he’d had to pull himself back from the edge of panic in order to speak to the woman.

They hadn’t stayed long. James introduced himself and Tony, keeping his voice soft and a mild smile on his face, staying more than arm’s length away from the door. Trying to project, the same way he did with Bruce, that he wasn’t dangerous and wouldn’t hurt her. Tony was his usual adorable self, chattering brightly to Mrs. Banner about how he and Bruce were gonna play on the slides, and then bouncing with excitement when Bruce came to the door too. Mr. Banner wasn’t home, and he hadn’t been there any of the other times later that James and Tony walked over to pick Bruce up or drop him off. Just his mother, thin and pale and scared-looking.

Knowing what little James did about Bruce’s parents, the heightened shyness made more sense, as did his jumpiness, and his reluctance to interact with James at all. His mother was the same way, and James refused to let himself delve into it. It wasn’t his place, and being nosy was just a really great way to get the kind of attention he could absolutely not afford. He had his and Tony's safety to think about, and none of his priorities were higher than that.

* * *

James had sunk into quite a deep think as Tony paced and waited for Bruce to come over for their sleepover, and was suddenly brought out of it by a noise of excitement.

“Bruce!” Tony shouted, and he went careening for the door. James glanced out the window, but didn’t see Mr. or Mrs. Banner, just Bruce walking down the street by himself, a backpack on his shoulders. James frowned for a moment, not liking that the little boy had come alone, then shrugged it away. He had no business being judgy about how another parent did their parenting.

He went to the door and held it open, smiling in spite of himself when he saw Tony all but bouncing in place as he walked alongside Bruce. “Come on in, you two! Bruce have you had dinner?”

The little boy’s smile faded as he met James' eyes, just for a second, then shook his head.

“That’s okay. Sleepovers are special, so we ordered pizza.”

Tony cheered, jumping up and down while he led Bruce to his room to leave his bag, and James shook his head and went to get the cash ready for the delivery boy, glad that Bruce was smiling again before he turned the corner.

* * *

After dinner, James suggested that the boys play out in the backyard with some of Tony’s trucks (he’d already dug himself a sizeable dirt pit by the house), which they happily did until it started getting dark. James could even hear Bruce out there, talking excitedly and even shrieking a few times as he and Tony played a boisterous game of some kind with dump trucks and tractors.

They were absolutely filthy when they came in, dirt streaked all over their clothes and skin, and Tony even had some in his hair. James ushered them both into the tub, washing the dirt and grime down the drain with the shower as he let the two of them play with his can of shaving cream, taking turns spraying each other with the white foam. Tony was giggling like crazy, and Bruce was smiling.

Bruce was skinny, really skinny, his collarbones and ribs standing out far too much. And not just that, but he had a large, fading bruise on his shoulder, and James had to force himself not to stare at it. He was in the habit of automatically assuming the worst, but that wasn’t necessarily the case, and jumping to conclusions wasn’t a good thing. Tony had bruises all the time, especially on his arms and legs in the summertime. He played hard and got himself into all kinds of scrapes, literal and figurative, and James had spent what felt like half his life putting bandaids and kisses on skinned knees and elbows.

Besides, Bruce could have just been naturally skinny, some people were, but James decided that dessert was a thing that needed to happen regardless. He wracked his brain to think of something that wouldn’t have too much sugar (he wanted the boys to sleep eventually), and finally decided that banana slices dipped in melted chocolate chips wouldn’t be too bad. He sent the towel-wrapped boys to get their pajamas on while he figured out how to melt the chocolate chips without burning them.

* * *

“Oh.” Bruce looked at the pajama shirt he pulled out of his backpack, his face filled with worry. “My mom gave me the wrong one.”

Tony had tugged his own pajama shirt over his head, and was wiggling his arms into the sleeves. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It gets stuck.” Bruce said, looking embarrassed. “It’s too small for my head.”

“Oh, I had one like that too. Daddy said it was because my brain grew too fast. I can help you!”

Tony sure tried… but it didn’t help.

“Oh no. It really does get stuck.”

“I told you.” Bruce said, his voice muffled inside the shirt, his head and eyes hurting where the shirt was stuck tight.

“I’ll get help!”

A sense of panic gripped Bruce, fear that he would get in trouble, that Tony’s dad would get mad. “No, Tony, don't!”

But Tony had already gone, and Bruce shook silently where he stood, not even able to open his eyes to see what was coming.

* * *

“Daddy!”

James looked up from the chocolate chips that he had very nearly melted in the pan on the stove, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Bruce’s head is stuck in his shirt and he can’t get out!”

At another time of his life, James might have found this sentence strange. However, he had a pretty good idea what he was walking into as he set the pan aside and turned off the stove, and he was right. Bruce was standing in the middle of Tony’s room, holding very still, a pajama shirt stuck halfway over his head. He couldn’t open his eyes because the shirt was pulled tight over the bridge of his nose, obviously unable to get it to go back up over his forehead or down over his nose. It was rucked up around his chest and trapped his arms over his head, obviously far too small, and James winced a little. That had to be uncomfortable.

“I got my daddy, Bruce, he can help!” Tony said brightly, his utter confidence endearing. Bruce, however, jumped and looked like he desperately wanted to step back. And, James noticed, the poor kid was shaking.

James knelt down next to Bruce, and said in a quiet voice, “Okay, hold on buddy. It’s okay. Let me see if I can help you.” He felt along the edge of the straining shirt collar, feeling bad when Bruce flinched. Poor kid was still scared of him, and that just broke his heart. “Wow, you’ve got that on there real good, don’t you?” He gave it an experimental tug, but stopped the moment he heard the bitten-back noise of pain Bruce made.

“I think we’re gonna have to cut it off, Bruce. It’s not budging.”

Bruce made a sound of distress, but Tony reached over and patted his arm. “It’s okay, Daddy will get it off.” 

James wondered, as he pulled the pocketknife that he always carried out of his jeans, if Bruce was worried more about James cutting his shirt off and hurting him, or getting in trouble at home for having a ruined shirt. He didn’t have a choice though, so with a careful slide and one quick twist, the sharp blade cut through the tight shirt collar at the back of Bruce’s head.

Bruce gasped when it finally went loose, his brown eyes blinking open now that they weren’t trapped closed. He went to pull the shirt the rest of the way on, but James stopped him.

“It’s too small, buddy, don’t put it on. You can borrow one of Tony’s shirts, or mine if you need to. That okay, Tony?” 

“Yeah, you can borrow one of my shirts! You can have my train one for keeps if you want, I don’t like it anymore.”

James rolled his eyes and smiled at Tony’s version of generosity as he eased Bruce’s shirt off, giving it a tug to free it from his shoulders and off over his head. The kid shivered, despite it being well over seventy degrees in the house, and crossed his arms over his chest. That bruise drew James’ attention again, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away.

He checked the tag on the too-small shirt while Tony chattered about his pajamas and decided to rank them from his most to least favorite, then went over to Tony’s clothes dresser. The boys were the same size, though Bruce was a little slighter and Tony a little shorter. 

“Here we go.” He walked on his knees back over to Bruce, making sure to smile gently at him. The kid was still watching him with fearful eyes, his body stiff like he was waiting, bracing himself. “You want to do it yourself, or do you want help?”

Bruce stared at the shirt, then at James, and seemed somehow frozen. So James bunched up the shirt in his fingers and stretched out the collar, holding it out so that Bruce could either take it or bend his head forward for James to pull it over his head. After another moment of staring, Bruce shifted the tiniest bit closer and ducked his head.

Feeling like he’d just won some kind of victory, James carefully tugged the shirt over his head, then held it out at the sides so Bruce could get his arms into the sleeves. “There. That’s better, right?”

Bruce nodded, glancing up at him through his eyelashes shyly as he nodded. With another smile, James reached out and gently ruffled his curls, then stood up and asked with a tone of playfulness, “Who wants dessert before we brush our teeth?”

* * *

Tony was over the moon, not only because of the special dessert (chocolate chips were kind of expensive, and therefore a treat), but because this was his first sleepover. He was bouncing off the walls as James tried to keep the two boys from making a disaster of the kitchen. He had to catch Tony by the back of his shirt more than once when the kid went careening for the doorway to get something to show Bruce, a slice of banana on a fork dripping chocolate all over the floor.

Storytime was… marginally easier, there was no melted chocolate and sticky fingers involved (he’d nearly had to bathe the both of them all over again by the time they’d finished their dessert). Tony’s very favorite book was “The Monster at the End of This Book”, because of the way James read it, and he coaxed James to read it now. He also coaxed Bruce to join him on James’ lap, so they could both see the pictures.

“Just wait, this is the best book ever! And Daddy does a funny voice!”

Despite the warning, Bruce had startled badly when James got to the first page, where Grover (and therefore James) exclaimed in mock-panic, “WHAT DID THAT SAY?!” But Tony was already giggling, and even with all the pseudo-shouting and even a few times when James jogged his knees to give both boys a little bounce of surprise, Bruce ended up grinning by the end. It was nice to see, actually, especially since Bruce so rarely smiled in James’ presence.

After story time they brushed their teeth and went to bed without any fuss, and it was with a grateful but amused sigh that James closed Tony’s bedroom door.

It was exhausting, being a parent.

* * *

“Guess what,” Tony whispered into the dark, nearly the second his dad had closed the door. He had just tucked them both in and told them goodnight, making sure Bruce remembered where the bathroom was, and giving Tony a kiss on the forehead. 

Bruce looked over at him, surprised that he was talking. He wasn’t allowed to talk at bedtime. He didn’t talk most of the time once his dad got home. He didn’t have a nightlight either, and he wondered if Tony was afraid of the dark like he was.

Tony grinned, the nightlight making his eyes sparkle. “Daddy said we can have pancakes for breakfast! I’m excited. Sometimes he does shapes, he can make a Mickey Mouse and even do a T for Tony!”

“Your dad is nice.” Bruce whispered after a moment, only daring to speak because Tony had first.

“Course he is. Isn’t your dad nice?” Tony asked, sounding bewildered.

Bruce didn’t answer. He was afraid to. Because he hadn’t known that dads could be nice until he’d met Tony.

His dad was always angry.

* * *

Bruce sat at the little kitchen table the next morning, watching as Tony’s dad made pancakes, and Tony stood on a stool at the end of the counter and told him what to do. 

“Now do a D for Daddy!” Tony exclaimed, already having demanded a T for Tony, three Mickey Mouses, one airplane that looked mostly like a big blob, and a B for Bruce. He kept trying to snitch bites of pancake, already having tugged off part of the T for Tony, and his dad poked his nose when he finished making the D for Daddy.

“Don’t you touch those pancakes again, or I’ll pour syrup in your hair.”

Tony covered his head with both hands, and tried to glare up at his dad, though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You will not!”

“Sure I will. And then I’ll see if you stick to the ceiling.”

“Daddy!” Tony was trying to scold him, but he couldn’t do it because he couldn’t stop giggling, and his dad was laughing too.

Bruce watched them, and something inside his little chest hurt. He had no idea that dads could be like that. Could be nice like that. Or play. Or tease, or be funny, or laugh. Tony’s dad was making breakfast, and not just cereal, he was making pancakes and eggs and ham. Bruce didn’t know dads could cook. His dad never cooked.

His dad wasn’t nice either. And he never played. He was always mad, and when he wasn’t mad he was sleeping. Bruce and Mama never, ever woke Dad up when he was sleeping, and they never bothered him when he was drinking.

Peeping over the counter, so just his eyes were showing, Tony reached for the steaming stack of pancakes again. Bruce was appalled, shocked that Tony was being so willfully naughty, but even more shocked that his dad knew it, but he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t upset at all, he was smiling, and when he scooped up some more butter to spread on the D for Daddy pancake, he moved real fast and smeared some of the butter right over the back of Tony’s wandering hand.

With a shriek, Tony started giggling and licking the butter off, not even flinching when his dad bopped him gently on the head with the pancake spatula and shooed him away to get out some forks. Tony’s dad was still smiling, wide enough that his teeth showed, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure Tony was doing what he asked. He saw Bruce watching, and before Bruce could look away, he winked.

Bruce was confused about that wink, and everything else, all day long. And when it was finally time for him to leave, when Tony helped him put his clothes in his backpack (including his new pajama shirt) and squish his pillow down so they could zip it up, Bruce felt sick to his stomach.

He didn’t want to go home.


	2. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' suspicions about Bruce's home life are confirmed in the worst way.
> 
> Written for my **BBB square U4 – restrained** , and for my **TSB square S1 – fears appear in reality**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 2: Helpless  
> Collaborator: rebelmeg  
> TSB Card Number: 3055  
> Squares Filled: BBB, U4 – restrained and TSB, S1 – fears appear in reality  
> Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags: child abuse, Dad Bucky & Kid Tony & Kid Bruce, heavy angst and lots of fluff  
> Summary: James' suspicions about Bruce's home life are confirmed in the worst way.  
> Word Count: 6506

James would remember forever the first time he knew for sure that Bruce wasn’t safe at home. It was the day before school started, just after lunch, and he and Tony were just getting their shoes on to go get Bruce when the phone rang. James answered it.

“Hello?”

“Tony’s dad?” The small voice on the other end of the phone was completely unexpected, and James went still with surprise.

“Yes, is this Bruce?”

“Can I talk to Tony, please?” It was hard to tell, because he was being so quiet, but James would have sworn there was the tremble of tears in his voice.

“Bruce, are you okay?”

“I need to talk to Tony.”

“Okay, just hold on a minute.” James pressed the receiver to his chest, his eyebrows drawn down tight. He was worried, and had half a mind to go over to the Banner’s right then, but dropped the idea quickly. He didn’t even know what was going on. He called over his shoulder for Tony, and lingered in the room when Tony took the phone, the receiver far too big for his small hands, and said hello.

He wasn’t on the phone for long, and didn’t say much. Not enough for James to know what he was talking about, other than that it made the kid upset. He was about to say something, he wasn’t sure what, when Tony finally said a quiet, “Bye,” and hung up.

He was silent for several long seconds, staring at the phone and looking so solemn that James nearly started to panic.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I want to be a superhero when I grow up. So I can punch the bad guys and save all the kids that get hurt.”

Dread dropped like a sickening weight into James’ stomach. His suspicions hadn’t been paranoid after all. That poor kid… 

He wanted nothing more than to drive straight over to the Banner’s, to pound on the door until Mr. Banner finally came to the door, and James could give him a metal-fisted piece of his mind. In fact, it took all his restraint not to do just that.

Because he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. Anything he might have done to help was out of the question, because he couldn’t risk anyone looking at him and Tony too closely. James would die, and take the whole world with him, before risking Tony’s life and the safety they’d found together.

Feeling horrible inside, James reached over and picked Tony up, settling him on his lap and wrapping both arms around him. Tony obviously needed the hug as much as he did, because he squirmed around until he could get both arms wrapped as far around James’ chest as he could reach, his head tucked under James’ chin.

They didn’t say anything. What could you say at a time like that anyway?

* * *

Summer went away almost overnight. On Monday, Tony wore shorts to school, and he played outside after lunch and got all warm and sweaty before Daddy called him in for dinner.

But on Thursday, Tony had to wear a jacket and pants to school in the morning, and on Friday, it was still cold enough that he had to wear his jacket when it was time to go home. Daddy said Halloween was only six weeks away, and that Tony needed to decide what he wanted his costume to be. Last year he was a robot, and Daddy had made him an amazing costume out of painted boxes and silver dryer tubes. This year, he didn’t know if he wanted to be a dinosaur, or an astronaut, or a ninja. He was going to ask Bruce. Maybe they could match!

They were in the same class at school, and when Tony found out he had jumped in Daddy’s lap, yelling with joy. Daddy had made a really funny, wheezy noise, and walked funny for a little while after that, but Tony wasn’t sure why.

Tony _loved_ school. He loved his teacher and his new friends and the books and the classroom and the playground he already knew so well. Daddy had been teaching him to read, so he was a little bit ahead of the rest of the class, and Mrs. Seely said that he could probably start taking books home to read by Christmas.

But Tony’s favorite part of school was seeing Bruce. Bruce was really shy, he didn’t like being around the other kids, and Mrs. Seely kind of scared him, and it took a whole week for him to stop being afraid to write his letters wrong. But Tony knew he was smart, he just needed time to get used to it, and even though Tony liked all the other kids too, he liked Bruce best. Bruce was his very bestest friend.

Then one day, when it rained a lot, Bruce didn’t come to school. Mrs. Seely said it was because he was sick. It felt weird, to have Bruce gone, like the whole day was sideways and wrong. Tony still had fun on the playground, he jumped in puddles with the other kids and sat next to them during circle time on the rug, but he missed Bruce.

When school got out, Tony grabbed his jacket and backpack and went running out the door, waving to Mrs. Seely and trying to put on his jacket while he ran. He had to stop by the playground, dropping his backpack on the wet ground so he could fix his jacket, but he still couldn’t do up the zipper. Daddy was teaching him, and how to tie his shoelaces, but it just got stuck a lot.

He was just picking up his backpack again to go run to meet Daddy by the fence, when he heard something.

“Tony.”

He turned around, but saw nobody there.

“Tony.”

It was coming from the big toy on the playground, and just behind one of the slides, Tony could see someone hiding. Then part of a face peeked around the bright red slide.

“Bruce?” What was Bruce doing here? He had stayed home sick.

Tony ran over and ducked under the slide, excited to see his friend, but then he saw Bruce’s face and went stock still, his backpack falling out of his hand.

All around Bruce’s eye were blue and purple bruises, and there was a swollen red cut on his cheek. Tony felt sick to his stomach as he stared. He knew that Bruce’s dad was mean, that sometimes he hit Bruce, but he had never been hurt so bad before. And Tony couldn't tell Daddy, because it was a secret. 

“You’re coming home with me.” Tony said decisively before Bruce could say a word, even though his voice was shaking. He flung his arms around Bruce in a hug, realizing that his best friend wasn’t wearing a jacket and his arms were cold. “You’ll be safe at my house.”

“I wanted to come to school.” Bruce whispered, and Tony could feel him shaking. “But Mama said I couldn’t because my face was bleeding.”

Tony’s throat hurt, and his eyes stung with tears, but he tried hard not to cry. “You can come home with me. Nobody will hurt you at my house.”

Bruce’s voice was very small when he whispered, “I know.”

Daddy was waiting on the sidewalk by the fence like he always was. Their house was only a block away, and Tony knew the way by heart, but Daddy always walked him to school in the morning and came to get him when school was over at lunchtime. He always worked hard to keep Tony safe, and Tony remembered the bad guys from when he was little, so he knew why.

He saw the moment that Daddy saw Bruce’s face, the way his whole body changed. He went very still, almost like a statue, and then Tony didn’t know how he walked different, but he did. And his face was very, very serious as he got close to them.

Bruce had stopped, and was looking up at Daddy with big, scared eyes. “I fell down the stairs.” He blurted out, his voice sounding funny.

Daddy suddenly looked so sad that Tony almost thought he might cry. Crouching down, he looked between Tony and Bruce, opening his mouth and then closing it again. He looked at Bruce’s arms, and Tony suddenly noticed that he had bruises there too. Tony got bruises on his arms sometimes, and on his knees and legs, but it was just from playing. He liked to jump and run and be rowdy, and sometimes he fell or ran into things. Daddy always kissed them better, and put bandaids on him if he got a scrape.

Bruce’s bruises weren’t like that, the kind you got from playing. There were a lot of them, big ones and small ones, dark against his goose-pimpled skin.

“Here,” Daddy said, his voice very, very soft. He took off his jacket and wrapped it carefully around Bruce’s shoulders like Bruce was made of glass and might break. “Do your feet or legs hurt?”

Bruce shook his head. He almost looked like he was going to cry, but he didn’t. Tony had never seen Bruce cry.

“Come here.” Daddy wrapped an arm around Tony, and the other around Bruce, and he stood up with both of them in his arms. Tony squirmed around so he was sitting on Daddy’s hip and wrapped his arms around his neck, like when he got tired of walking in the grocery store and didn’t want to sit in the cart. Bruce was holding very still, but he looked uncomfortable, and was leaning back funny. Daddy just gave him a small bounce, so he’d sit on his other hip like Tony, and he started walking home, carrying them both because Daddy was really strong. He didn’t talk, and neither did Tony or Bruce.

When they got home, Daddy’s voice was still really soft and quiet when he set Tony and Bruce down and told Tony to go hang up his backpack on his hook. Tony did, making sure to hang up his jacket too, then he followed Daddy into the bathroom. Bruce was still standing by the front door, looking scared.

“Daddy?” Tony watched as he got out the first aid kit with the bandaids in it. “Can Bruce stay here?”

“Yes, he’s staying here tonight. I’ll call his mom later.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

He didn’t know how to ask his question, so instead he said, “There aren’t any stairs at Bruce’s house.”

Daddy nodded, and swallowed hard. “I know, buddy.” His voice sounded funny.

“Then why did Bruce say he fell down the stairs?”

Daddy looked at him for a second, then got a washcloth wet and wrung it out. “Because sometimes people feel like they have to tell lies, or they’ll get in trouble.”

Tony’s stomach did a flip. “Is Bruce in trouble?”

“Yes, but not the kind that you get into when you don't pick up your toys. This is a different, bigger trouble that little boys shouldn't ever have to deal with. Come here. I want you to come help me.”

Tony held Bruce’s hand while Daddy very, very gently wiped away the dried blood on the cut on his cheek. Bruce had tears in his eyes, but he still didn’t cry. Tony almost did, though. Daddy smeared ointment on the cut, then put a bandaid over it. He checked Bruce’s eye next, pressing his fingers very lightly all around it.

“I just want to make sure nothing is broken,” Daddy whispered, looking like he was hurt himself. Tony didn’t know what he meant, but he held Bruce’s hand hard when he squeezed.

After he had checked the bruises on Bruce’s arms, and looked under his shirt on his tummy and back and rolled up his pant legs too, Daddy sat back on his heels, looking very tired and worn out.

“Kiss it better too, Daddy.” Tony insisted, blinking hard to make the tears go away.

Daddy looked at him, then at Bruce, and looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. Then he gave Bruce a very soft kiss next to the bandaid on his cheek, and Tony felt Bruce shake a little.

“Daddy always kisses it better.” Tony told Bruce, squeezing his hand again. Bruce didn’t say anything.

* * *

James didn’t want Bruce to go home. To be quite honest, he was tempted to refuse to take him home.

He had called the Banner house after dinner, hoping that nobody would answer the phone, that he would have a reason, no matter how flimsy, to keep Bruce overnight. But his mom had answered, sounding quiet and terrified and utterly _relieved_ that Bruce was safe. She didn’t say as much, but James knew that she hadn’t had any idea where he was. And before he could suggest a sleepover, she had all but begged him to bring her son home.

He didn’t want to. Everything in him was screaming not to take Bruce back, knowing the little boy would only get hurt again. But he couldn’t afford to interfere more than he already had. If the police got involved, if they took a close enough look at him and Tony, they would know. They would figure it out, and really, how much time would it really take for them to take Tony away from him, and for Hydra to come for him? It was a risk he couldn’t take, and James hated himself for it, feeling pulled two ways and unable to satisfy both.

It hurt so much to have to crouch down, look both Bruce and Tony in the eye, and tell them that he had to take Bruce home. Tony had immediately teared up, worry and fear all over his face as he clutched his friend’s hand. Bruce had gone still, terror visible in his eyes only for a moment before his whole face went carefully blank. It made James utterly sick.

"But you said he could sleep over, Daddy." Tony said in a shaking voice. "Can't he stay?"

"No, buddy. I'm so sorry. I want him to stay too, but his mom is really worried about him." James looked Bruce in the eyes, wishing he had more than words. "I'm so sorry, Bruce."

Bruce's lip trembled, just slightly, before he ducked his head and nodded.

James dawdled on the walk to the Banner’s home. He let the boys take their time, overly accommodating their short strides, meandering more than walking. Tony picked up on it, and he found a reason to stop at least once every ten paces or so. They stopped and looked at every stick, leaf, bug, car, fire hydrant, and street sign in the gathering twilight, but even with all that, they eventually got to Bruce’s house.

His mother was standing behind the screen door, looking out, and James saw her shoulders slump with relief when they finally came into view, her hand coming up to her face. Not for the first time, he wondered what it had to be like to be her, probably living in constant fear, and possibly danger and pain. He remembered what that was like, some of then nightmares still hadn't gone away. But the thought of Tony being in danger, being hurt like that, and being utterly helpless to stop it... James couldn't even bring himself to imagine it.

Bruce had stopped at the edge of his yard, looking at the house as he went utterly still and silent. Tony started to cry, wrapping his arms around his friend, and James knelt down in the damp grass in front of Bruce. Using the gentlest touch possible, he tipped Bruce’s chin up and waited for the boy to look him in the eye, seeing a sheen of unshed tears in them.

“You can come over to our house anytime, Bruce, okay? No matter what. You will always be safe at our house, and nobody will hurt you. I promise.”

Bruce’s lip trembled, his composure cracking, and he suddenly flung himself at James. He caught the little boy in his arms, could feel him shaking like a leaf, and held on for the longest time. He rocked slightly in place, ignoring the way the knees of his jeans were soaking through, stroking his hand through Bruce’s curls over and over again. Tony was pressed to his side, one small arm around each of them, and James would have given anything in the world to take both of them away where nothing would ever scare them or hurt them ever again.

Eventually, Bruce pulled back, and his eyes were puffy and red. His black eye looked sore, and James’ heart ached as he cupped that injured little face in his hand, wishing he had the words to communicate everything he was feeling.

One more tight, desperate hug from Tony, and Bruce slowly turned away, walking towards the house. He looked so small and fragile, his shoulders hunched over in the jacket he was borrowing from Tony, walking as if he were an old man heading for the gallows.

His mother was still standing at the door, and she met James’ eye. She looked like a ghost, all of a sudden, hollowed out and pale. But she managed the smallest, trembling smile as she nodded at him, raising her hand. It was all the thanks she could give, but James took it for what it was.

Tony was sobbing now, his eyes streaming and his nose running, and when Bruce finally went into the house and the doors closed behind him, he sat right down on the damp ground and cried his heart out. James scooped him into his arms, holding him tight, feeling tears run down his own cheeks as he slowly started walking home.


	3. From Bad To Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bruises on Bruce's face heal. His home life doesn't. James is driven to make a drastic and necessary decision.
> 
> **Written for my BBB square C5 – the clock is ticking**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the worst of it, lovelies. Read the warnings again. There is a description of abuse-related injuries (blood is involved), and this is the chapter with the character death, due to those injuries. Know your limits and respect them, drop me a line if you've got questions. If you wanna skip the bad parts, stop at the line break and see the summary in the end notes.
> 
>   
> Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 3: From Bad To Worse  
> Collaborator: rebelmeg  
> Square Filled: C5 – the clock is ticking  
> Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags: child abuse, Dad Bucky & Kid Tony & Kid Bruce, heavy angst, character death  
> Summary: The bruises on Bruce's face heal. His home life doesn't. James is driven to make a drastic and necessary decision.  
> Word Count: 9421

The weather turned bitter cold, and Bruce’s black eye finally faded when the first big snowfall came in October. James had been watching carefully, checking almost obsessively for any more injuries every day when Bruce came over. He came home with Tony after kindergarten every day now, spent the afternoons at the Buchannan house, and stayed for dinner most nights. If he could have gotten away with it, James would have kept him there always. Tony loved being with Bruce, had even asked James if that was what it was like to have a brother. And Bruce, on good days when he was able to open up enough to actually meet James' eye and smile at him, there was a glimmer of hope there.

Halloween came and went, Tony wearing his elaborate dinosaur costume and Bruce wearing a less elaborate but still pretty good matching costume that James had thrown together when he found out that morning that Bruce didn’t have a costume to wear. They went trick-or-treating together, walking as long as their legs held out while James trailed along a few steps behind. That night was the first time James heard Bruce laugh, when Tony had found his favorite candy bar in his bag. He had done a little dance, then subsequently tripped on his costume and fell over into a pile of leaves, squawking in surprise. They had to hunt in the dark to find the candy bar that had flown out of Tony’s hand, but James finally spotted it and they went happily on their way again.

Thanksgiving was a couple weeks away, and James almost dared to hope that maybe the worst of it was over. Bruce hadn’t had any new bruises, the cut on his cheek had finally scarred over, and he didn’t look scared of James anymore. A little hesitant, and he always looked bewildered when James went out of his way to do something kind for him, but it was getting better.

And then it all went so very wrong.

* * *

The first day Bruce missed school was also the day of a snowstorm that dropped a solid foot of snow overnight, and James forced himself not to worry. It was the middle of November, cold and flu season was in full swing, and one day was nothing. Maybe Bruce’s mother just hadn’t wanted to fight her way through the snow. James' had carried Tony to school on his shoulders, plowing a path that left his boots and jeans soaked.

So James forced himself not to drive past the Banner’s house, but he did give in and call while Tony stood next to him anxiously. There was no answer, and James stewed over it all night long, knowing that Tony was doing the same.

The next day, Bruce was gone again. Tony barely had the words out of his mouth after school before James had taken his hand, and the two walked straight to Bruce’s house. They knocked, several times, but nobody answered.

“Maybe they went somewhere.” James suggested, trying to see inside without being obvious about it. Neighbors were nosy, and he didn't want that kind of attention.

Tony didn’t reply, just looked between him and the door with worry all over his small face.

On the third day, Tony called home not fifteen minutes after school started, in tears because Bruce still wasn’t there. James knew he should wait, shouldn’t overreact or jump to conclusions, but the memory of bruises and blood on Bruce’s skin was too powerful.

He picked up Tony from school in the truck, too impatient to even make the short walk. They were pulling up at Bruce’s house less than a minute later, and all but running to the door, no footsteps in the snow except theirs from the day before.

James pounded on the door with his fist, determined to find out what had happened. He waited a minute, then pounded again, and he would for as long as it took.

“Hey!”

A loud call brought his head around, and James startled when he saw an older neighbor woman coming out of the house next door, purse in hand.

“Are you looking for the Banner boy?” The woman asked, her eyes sharp.

“Yes,” James saw no point in lying. “He’s best friends with my son, and we’re worried about him.”

“You should be.” The woman said as she made her way to her car, sending a chill crawling down James’ spine. “The things I hear from that house, they’re things nobody should ever hear. Thought I’d have to call the police a few nights ago, with all the yelling and screaming and crashing sounds, it was like furniture was being thrown around. It all went quiet after midnight, though. Haven’t heard a peep since. Haven't seen the husband around either, and good riddance.”

Tony was squeezing James’ hand hard, and James could almost feel his blood curdle from the horror sweeping through him.

The neighbor lady got into her car and drove away, and James seemed rooted to the doorstep for a moment before he sprang into action.

“Tony, listen to me. I want you to go to the car, and I want you to stay there.”

“But Daddy—”

“No. I’m gonna find a way inside, but I want you to stay in the car. You hear me?”

Tony paused, obviously reluctant, but James didn’t often use that kind of voice, the one that was deadly calm and serious. Finally the little boy nodded, and James waited for him to get in the car and close the door before moving off the doorstep.

He had already scoped out the front of the house, noting that all the windows were shut with the curtains drawn. He went around back, glancing in windows as he went, but there was no luck. He stood at the back door for several long seconds, contemplating his next move, and gave a quick look around before he tried the doorknob. He wasn’t surprised to find it locked, but all it took was a quick clench and twist of his metal hand to render the lock useless.

He pushed his way inside, squeezing past the edge of the door when a chair blocked it from opening all the way. James’ eyes went wide as he looked around the small dingy kitchen, the sick feeling of dread in his stomach getting worse. The table and chairs had been overturned, and one chair was broken. Through the doorway he could see the remnants of what looked like a small table in what he guessed was the living room, and on one broken edge, the dark stain of blood.

James wasn’t operating on conscious thought as he tore through the rest of the house, moving on autopilot as his senses sharpened and focused with deadly accuracy. The living room was in a shambles just like the kitchen, broken furniture strewn around, the couch tipped over as if someone had gone through it in a destructive rage.

Bruce’s bedroom was empty too, and while no furniture was broken in there, it hardly looked like a kids room. Only the small bed and one small sock next to the dirty laundry hamper gave it away, the walls were bare and there were no toys or childish things to speak of.

He found Mrs. Banner in the master bedroom, and he knew instantly that she was barely alive. Memories of death, so much death, immediately rose up in his mind, nearly paralyzing him as he struggled to focus on Bruce’s mother. She was on the bed and under the covers, curled up tight on one side, with dried blood caked on the side of her head and smeared dark on the sheets. It was only the faint sound of wheezing that let him know she was breathing, her chest barely moved at all.

“Mrs. Banner!” He was at her side in a blink, his hands hovering over her, not wanting to make it worse. “Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, and James gingerly touched her shoulder, feeling how cold she was. He was close enough now to see the pillowcase, soaked with blood under her head, and probably the reason she was so cold.

“Mrs. Banner, it’s James Buchannan, Tony’s dad. Can you hear me?”

He shook her, very gently, and she made a slight moaning noise. His heart leapt into his throat when her eyes fluttered open, then dropped into his stomach when he saw how glassy and vacant they were.

“What happened?” He couldn’t help but ask, even though he knew. What else could have happened? 

Her lips were moving, trying to speak, but it took her several tries to get a word out.

“Bruce.”

“Where is he?” James asked desperately. “Did your husband take him?” He could barely get the words out, choked with fear.

“Take… Bruce.”

“He did?”

“No,” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it looked like it took an incredible amount of effort for her to slide her hand across the sheets. James took it, squeezing gently, leaning in close when she spoke again.

“You. Take Bruce.”

“What? Me take him? Take him where?”

“Away. Save him. Please.”

James had no response. His brain was an utter blank as he stared at the dying woman, too many emotions flying around inside him to do anything.

“Please. Save him. Take him away.”

“Mrs. Banner, you’re hurt. You’re really hurt. Let me call an ambulance and I can—”

“No. Too late. Please. Promise me. Save him.”

“I don’t know where he is.” James’ voice broke.

“Save him.” Her voice was weaker now, and James knew that these were her final moments. There was nothing he could do, nobody that could help.

“Mrs. Banner—”

“ _Please._ ”

“Okay.” It was out of his mouth before he even realized it. “Okay, I promise. I’ll find him and I’ll save him. Can you tell me where he is?”

It was too late, though. The effort of merely speaking had taken the rest of her strength, and James’ promise was just enough that she could let herself slip away. What little life was in her eyes faded just that quick, and she was gone.

“No…”

With trembling fingers, James gently closed her eyes, then pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. And lurched back in time to vomit all over the carpet.

When he was done he sat back, despair choking him. He didn’t know what to do. He had no idea where Bruce was, where Mr. Banner, that abusive son of a bitch, was. What if he had Bruce? What if he had hurt Bruce? James was afraid to get up and search the house, he didn’t want to have confirmation of his very worst fears, that Bruce was either taken away, or… worse.

The tiniest sound pulled him sharply out of the black hole he was falling into, and James felt his heart leap wildly. Shifting to his hands and knees, he lowered his head until he could see under the bed.

Bruce was there, curled up in a ball against the far wall with his back to James. And he was breathing.

Almost sobbing in relief, James lunged forward and reached under the bed, trying to speak around the aching knot in his throat. “Bruce! Bruce, it’s James, it’s Tony’s dad.”

The little boy didn’t move, not even when James managed to wiggle under the bed enough to touch him.

“Bruce, can you hear me? Can you say something for me? I need to know if you’re hurt.” 

He still didn’t respond, so James managed to get ahold of him, tugging on the waistband of his pants enough that he could get his hands under the boy and slide him out. Bruce’s eyes were closed, but he was shaking and breathing harshly, definitely not asleep.

“Bruce,” James sat down on the floor and held Bruce in his arms like a baby, running one hand over his small body to check for broken bones or other injuries. His hands were stained with blood, as were his clothes. He had finger-shaped bruises on one arm, and a few on his back, but that seemed to be the worst of it. Physically, anyway. The blood wasn’t his, but James had a pretty solid idea where it had come from, and the idea of this tiny kid trying to help his mom while she slowly died was too horrific to dwell on. “Bruce, please open your eyes. Please?”

He did, but only for a moment, and the depths of misery and pain in them rendered James speechless.

“Mama.” Bruce said, his voice thin as a whisper. “Mama’s hurt.”

“I know, honey.” James wrapped his arms carefully around the little boy, hugging him as tight as he dared, his heart breaking. “I’m so sorry. She was just hurt really bad.” How did he explain this? How did he tell Bruce that his mother was dead?

As if on cue, Bruce lifted his head and looked at her. “Mama?”

“Bruce,” He had to say it twice, because his voice broke the first time. “Bruce, honey, look at me.”

He did, his dark brown eyes wide and red-rimmed, and full of utter misery and suffering.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce. She died. She’s gone to heaven now.”

There was a moment of silence, and James was terrified that he’d have to explain this concept, Bruce was so little, how could he understand? But Bruce just looked at his mom one more time, shuddered, then turned his face into James’ chest and squeezed his eyes shut as the beginnings of tears started to form.

James hunched over and held the little boy more securely, aching all the way down to his soul. “I’m so sorry, Bruce. I’m so sorry.” He rocked back and forth a little, fighting back tears, trying to figure out what to do next. Call the police? An ambulance? What would they do? Surely they’d take Bruce away, they’d never let James have him. They might even give him back to his father…

The thought of the man who had done this first made James see red, and a rush of fury went through him. But once that faded, it gave him focus.

“Bruce, where is your father? Is he here?”

“He’s gone.” Bruce murmured. “He didn’t come back.”

Well, small blessings. A plan was slowly forming in James’ head, and it was as necessary as it was radical. “I’m gonna take care of you, Bruce. I promise. You’re gonna come with me and Tony, and nobody is ever gonna hurt you again.”

Bruce didn’t reply, he just laid limply in James’ arms, his eyes still closed.

It took less than five minutes to find a bag and pack all the clothes and child-related things in the house, holding Bruce against his chest the whole time. There wasn’t much. In fact, except for the small clothes, it would have been easy to believe that a child didn’t even live here. There were no toys, no books, no colorful pictures or childish messes. Just Bruce's backpack in the closet with his clothes and shoes.

James draped Bruce’s coat over his back, then grabbed a blanket out of the hall closet to cover him with as well. Using a damp rag from the kitchen, James wiped down everything he had touched, and on the way out the back door he yanked the doorknob clean out of the door and threw it in with the rest of the wreckage. He wedged the door shut behind him, and with Bruce and a packed bag in his arms, turned his back on the house.

Tony was waiting in the car, his nose pressed to the window as he watched the house with wide eyes. James could hear him shout when he came around the corner, saw Tony scrabbling at the door lever, trying to get out. He opened the door just as James got there, brimming over with terrified questions, but James just nudged him over.

“Scoot over, let him lay down next to you. Hold his hand, okay?” James gently laid Bruce on the front seat next to Tony, making sure he was wrapped up well in the blanket. He dropped the bag on the floor and hurried around to the driver’s side, looking around to see if anyone had noticed him coming out with Bruce.

The neighbor lady from before was still gone, and he was glad for it. Something dark inside James that he worked hard to keep buried down deep was simmering just under the surface, and he knew that if he had to, he would do _anything_ to protect his boys. Anything at all.

Tony looked at him when he got into the car, his eyes wide and scared. “Daddy? Why does he have blood on his hands?”

James felt like throwing up again as he looked at the boys’ hands, Tony’s clean skin against Bruce’s bloodstained fingers. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Promise.”

Tony nodded, satisfied for now, and he bent over so he could lay his head on Bruce’s, holding his hand tightly. As James pulled away from the curb, he couldn’t help but reach over and close his hand around Bruce’s and Tony’s, squeezing gently.

He had successfully kidnapped a kid before, rather than leaving him alone to whatever horrible fate was in store for him, and by damn he could do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Bruce misses school for three days, and James and Tony go to his house to find out why. James breaks in, and finds Mrs. Banner barely alive. She begs James to take Bruce away, James agrees, and she dies. Bruce is under her bed, and James takes him and leaves.


	4. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the run again, James takes care of his boys while Bruce begins his recovery, constantly supported by Tony.
> 
> **Bingo Squares Filled**  
>  Bruce Bingo, U2 – road trip  
> BBB, C4 – anger issues  
> TSB, A1 – forcibly adopted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst is over! It gets better from here! Recovery is tough and slow, but it's happening.
> 
> Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 4: Turning Point  
> Collaborator: rebelmeg  
> TSB Card Number: 3055  
> Squares Filled: Bruce Bingo, U2 – road trip  
> BBB, C4 – anger issues  
> TSB, A1 – forcibly adopted  
> Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags: child abuse, recovery (physical and emotional), dad Bucky and kids Tony and Bruce, nightmares  
> Summary: On the run again, James takes care of his boys while Bruce begins his recovery, constantly supported by Tony.  
> Word Count: 12,831

Less than two hours later, James and the two boys were in the truck and heading out of town. Everything that could be packed up and fit in the truck bed was tied down under a tarp. The landlord had been called, James inventing a family emergency and promising to leave money to cover the rent through the end of the month. The same emergency lie had been told to the school.

The boys were sitting together in the passenger seat, and were already dozing off. After they’d gotten home, James had taken them both straight to the bathroom and put them in the tub, carefully washing away every bit of dried blood off Bruce’s hands and face. He took the bloody clothes out back and set them on fire in the trash can, then buried the ashes under a layer of snow and garbage from the kitchen.

Bruce had been silent and still the entire time, sitting on Tony’s bed and watching while Tony gathered up his favorite toys and packed them into his school bag. James had been running all over the house, gathering up clothes and bedding and food and anything else he could think of that they wouldn't be able to replace easily.

It had been all rush and hurry, and Tony had been an absolute angel. He didn’t ask any questions, just did exactly what James asked him, and chattered away to Bruce. James had seen the fear in his eyes, especially when he had realized they were leaving, but there was nothing in the world as powerful as Tony’s trust in his dad. James was weak with how grateful and undeserving he felt, in the face of that much trust.

And now, all he could think of was putting as much distance as possible behind him. He had no plan yet for a destination, and he headed in a vague southwest direction simply because going northeast would put him in the Great Lakes.

They stopped for lunch and for dinner, James getting food at drive-thru restaurants that they ate in the truck. They stopped for gas and to use the bathrooms, but didn’t stop for the night until nearly midnight. The tiny motel room had one queen-sized bed, but James didn’t mind that at all. He needed to feel both boys close to be able to sleep at all, with Tony tucked back against his chest and Bruce close enough to touch. James listened to them breathe for a long time, sleep eluding him, and he was only able to finally relax after he had curled one arm around Tony and rested his other hand in the curls on Bruce’s head. He probably imagined the way Bruce sighed in his sleep and shifted closer to his touch. Probably.

* * *

It was hard to keep up with the news, what with how quickly James was determined to move along during the next two weeks. He picked up a paper any chance he got, usually in restaurants or grocery stores when they stopped for food. He skimmed through the articles whenever he had a spare moment, part of him unsettled and on edge, waiting.

Then he finally found it, buried a couple pages back in a national newspaper, a short article about a murder/suicide in Wisconsin, and a missing child suspected dead. The mother had reportedly threatened to take the child away from the alcoholic father, and he had flown into a rage, killing her. He committed suicide on the shores of Lake Erie, and the police hoped to find the child’s body any day now, though one deputy had admitted that the likelihood of that wasn't very great. The names of the family were withheld, but it was them. James knew it.

He relaxed marginally after that. He desperately wished he could extend the same to Bruce.

The poor kid was a mess. He was skittish and scared and silent, he had nightmares and wet the bed every night, and James sensed that it would be a long, long time for him to be able to loosen up and learn to trust again. Tony was what kept Bruce afloat, his energy and enthusiasm and eagerness cutting through some of the shroud of fear and confusion surrounding Bruce, drawing him out of his shell. 

James was worried about Tony too, knew that his son could sense his anxiety and worry. Maybe that was why Tony was such a chatterbox. He always had been, and James adored that about him. It was only now occurring to him that perhaps Tony's propensity to talk so much was a kind of coping mechanism. He lost more than a few hours of sleep over that, drowning in the possibility that he had ruined both those precious boys despite his best efforts. 

He would flip in and out of bouts of serious anger, every time he saw the fading finger-shaped bruises on Bruce's skin, or was certain he could see the strain in Tony's eyes as the kid worked so hard to be happy enough for all three of them. He wanted to rail against the world, fight every single demon that lurked in Bruce's eyes, take away every source of worry that he and Tony were both too young to have to experience. It took incredible amounts of self-restraint to fight back that fury, to never let it show on his face or in is words or actions. Bruce had seen enough anger in his life, more than anyone deserved, and James would be damned if he became another source of fear for that poor kid. Yet still, most of the time, James was utterly certain he was fighting a losing battle, and that he'd doomed Tony and Bruce as well.

He couldn't think about it. That was the best and only way he'd found so far to keep himself from sinking into a depression he couldn't come out of. So he made it a habit to refocus his thoughts every time they wandered anywhere negative, to make himself focus on the boys instead. Tony loved him with all his heart, he always had. And if James were very, very lucky, maybe one day he'd earn the same from Bruce.

He had to work for it, of course, but he was so willing to do so. Every night, he held Tony on his lap for a bedtime story and hug, and offered his hand to Bruce. He had yet to accept, but James would offer it anyway, every single day until they put him in the ground. He never raised his voice, tried hard not to move suddenly, and he never touched Bruce without asking first. And even then, on the rare occasion that Bruce said it was okay, he telegraphed his movements, making no comment about the way Bruce still flinched away every time.

Every single day, he told Bruce that he was safe and nobody was going to hurt him. And then he made damn sure to back up his words with actions, because words were nothing without proof.

And Bruce watched. He watched all the time, in his wordless way, watching Tony and watching James and watching them together. Sometimes James could see flickers of emotion on his face and in his eyes, but more often than not, the boy was as hard to read as a statue.

It wasn’t hard to understand what he was doing, though. He was waiting for the catch. For a trick, for the part when the act all fell apart, and everything went bad again. He’d never known anything different. James ached to be able to help him, to somehow soothe all the hurts that lived inside that little boy. To draw away the fear and be able to love Bruce and hug him and shower on him all the affection and kindness that he deserved, that he watched Tony receive all the time.

But James could wait. He would wait forever if he had to. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to wait that long, and as the weeks slowly passed, there were beginning to be signs that healing was starting to happen.

* * *

Bruce hated nightmares. He had them all the time, almost every night, and sometimes more than once.

The first few times it happened, he had buried his face in his pillow and cried silently. He only ever cried at night when no one could hear. He'd been punished before for crying, and even though he wanted to believe Tony, believe that his dad wouldn't hurt him, Bruce couldn't trust it. But then someone did hear him crying, and it had been both a shock and a relief the night when Tony had gotten out of his bed on the other side of the room and crawled into Bruce’s, hugging him tight and whispering that it would be okay, they were just bad dreams.

Tony had nightmares too, sometimes. He told Bruce about them, about when bad men had attacked him and his daddy, and Daddy had protected them. Bruce didn’t talk about his nightmares. He knew they would scare Tony, make him sad, maybe even make him cry like he had when he’d seen Bruce’s black eye. But he listened when Tony told him about his bad dreams, and let himself snuggle close to Tony when even the nightlight in their room didn't chase the nightmares away.

One night, after they’d been living in their new apartment in Nevada for about two months, Bruce was lying awake after having woken up after a dream (not a bad one, this time), and he heard something strange. He sat up, immediately frightened, but then Tony rolled over and sat up too, blinking sleepily. 

A louder noise then, almost like someone crying out, and Tony scooted out of bed, heading for the door. Bruce scrambled to follow him, not wanting to be left alone, but he hung back a little when Tony went out into the hall and opened James’ bedroom door. Was that allowed? Wouldn’t Tony get in trouble? Bruce’s heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

“Daddy?” Tony went into the room, and stood on tiptoe at the side of the bed. He reached out to where James was shifting restlessly in the middle of the bed, mumbling words that didn’t make sense and tossing his head. He woke up the second Tony touched his arm, his whole body jerking, and then he was rolling towards Tony and grabbing his hand.

“Hey,” He said, his voice croaky and rough. “I wake you up?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Tony replied, climbing up onto the bed. He looked back at the doorway, where Bruce was still hovering. “It’s okay, Bruce. Daddy gets bad dreams too. It makes him feel better when I hug him.” 

James sat up then, looking surprised as he rubbed his eyes. “Bruce? Hi, buddy. You okay? I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Bruce shook his head, feeling shy and uncertain. “You didn’t. I was awake.”

There was a line between James' eyebrows, and Bruce had noticed that happened when he was worried. “You okay?” Bruce nodded, and cautiously took a step forward. James didn't seem mad. He didn't seem upset at all.

“Were you having a bad dream too?” Tony asked Bruce, scooting over and curling up next his daddy. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No. Just a normal dream. Then I heard…” He looked at James uneasily.

James just smiled at him gently, and kissed the top of Tony’s head. “Thanks for coming to check on me. You can both go back to bed now, I'm okay.”

“Nope,” Tony contradicted, snuggling closer into the blankets and curling one hand into James’ pajama shirt. “I gotta stay with you so the bad dreams don’t come back, ‘member?”

James smiled, a soft smile that he got when he looked at Tony (and Bruce too, now that he thought about it), and wrapped an arm around him. “You’re a sweet kid. But I think Bruce might need you more.” 

Taking a deep breath and trying very hard to be brave, Bruce took the last few steps to the bed, trembling a little. “I could… sleep in here?”

James nodded immediately, and held out his hand. “Of course you can, honey. You want help up?”

Usually Bruce didn’t. He didn’t take James’ hand, or sit with him and Tony on the couch for bedtime stories, or let James give him a hug goodnight. But… he was trying to be brave. Tony had said that it was important to be brave, like the heroes in their stories. So he swallowed hard and reached out his hand.

James’ hand was big, but he was very gentle as he took Bruce’s hand and carefully pulled him up on the bed. He had scooted all the way over, so Tony and Bruce would have a lot of room, and Bruce wiggled under the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

"Good night, you two. Sleep good, okay?" James smiled at both of them, and Bruce shyly smiled back.

Tony was smiling at him too, big and happy, and he reached out to hold Bruce’s hand. James’ bed wasn’t much bigger than Tony’s and Bruce’s, so he was all pressed up against the wall, but he didn’t look upset at all. He just curled one arm under his head to use as a pillow (Tony and Bruce were using his), and carefully rested the other one, the metal one, over Tony. The metal hand was on top of the covers between Tony and Bruce, and Bruce looked at it for a few minutes in the dark.

He didn’t touch it, but he dared to think that someday, maybe… he would.

* * *

_Someday_ didn’t happen for a long time. And James knew, he had known from the moment he’d made the decision, sitting on the floor in the Banner’s house, holding Bruce against his chest, that it would take a long time. There was so much hurt and suffering in Bruce’s past, and all of it fresh and horrifying in his mind. He might never get over it, and that thought terrified James more than almost anything else.

After a couple more months in Nevada, they moved to California. The heat wasn’t so bad there, and Tony had gotten all excited when James mentioned that they’d be close to the ocean. He took care to choose a place that was close to the coast, close enough that they could walk to the beach. He even managed to find a job on the boardwalk, in a small shop that sold t-shirts, sunglasses, sunscreen, souvenirs, and other such things. The owner was a woman in her fifties, and she was fine with Bruce and Tony hanging out in the break room if James needed them to. Despite her stern demeanor, she even took a bit of a shine to the boys. Snacks and toys would somehow end up in the boys’ backpacks, or books or games, sometimes a few dollars so they could go get ice cream in the shop next door. They thrived under her attention, soaking it in like sponges, and Tony made it easier for Bruce just by being himself.

At home, things slowly continued to improve. Bruce was healing, slowly, though James knew that there were some very deep wounds on the inside that wouldn’t ever fully go away. He had some himself just like that.

Speaking of hurts on the inside, James had been having those fits of anger less, which he was grateful for, but in exchange he had nightmares more often. It didn’t surprise him, not after what happened with Bruce. He hadn’t been around death in five years, and then watching Mrs. Banner die like that... it had taken a toll.

Most nights, he could keep it to himself. He didn’t call out in his sleep most of the time, just tossed and turned until he woke himself up, and then he stayed awake, watching TV or finding something to keep his hands busy (he cleaned a lot, on those nights.)

And yet, there were still the nights where Tony heard him. He didn’t know how, James knew that he wasn’t that loud. But Tony heard him anyway, or just seemed to know, and he’d wake up with a shout in his throat and a small hand on his arm or his shoulder, and on those nights he could get back to sleep. Because Tony was there, tucked in the crook of his arm or splayed across his chest like an overgrown baby monkey. And most of the time now, Bruce was there too.

At first, Bruce would come in with Tony, clamber up on the bed, and go to sleep next to them, but not touching. James brought it up, every so often, asking if Bruce wanted to scoot over or anything, but he’d just shake his head and curl up on his half of the pillow.

It was late spring and getting close to Tony’s birthday. The ocean was finally starting to warm up a bit, so the boys didn’t squeal at the cold every time they waded out into the surf. Tony made another friend, a little four-year-old redheaded girl that seemed to instantly decide that Tony was hers now, and Tony didn’t object at all. Bruce didn’t either, in fact, he had even started teasing Tony about it, and that had made something ease in James’ chest. Things had to be getting better, if Bruce felt like he could do something like tease.

James had another nightmare, not any worse or better than the rest, but he woke up to Tony standing on his tiptoes, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Hi, buddy. Sorry.”

Tony didn’t say anything, just climbed into bed, right over James’ chest, and curled up in the crook of his arm on the other side. James opened his mouth to ask why, since he usually slept with his back to the wall, but then the mattress shifted again, and there was Bruce.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay.” Bruce tugged at the covers, getting ready to settle in, and then the little boy paused, looking at the spot he usually curled up in. And then he looked at James, and there was something hesitant and yet yearning on his sweet face.

Slowly, James held out his arm. And after another moment of shy consideration, Bruce crawled over and curled up at James’ side. He reached his small hand up over James’ chest, finding Tony’s and holding onto it, then he sighed, did a little wiggle, and within minutes he was asleep.

James didn’t make a sound as silent tears trickled down the sides of his face, getting into his hair and even dripping into his ears. He just laid there in the dark for the longest time, holding both of his little boys, one under each arm, two different textures of curly hair under his fingers.

This was like that night when Tony was a baby, maybe a month after they’d been thrown together by fate, and James had walked away with a baby in his arms instead of leaving it behind to die. That night weeks later, James had woken up and remembered who he was, and spent half the night in the rocking chair, with Tony on his chest as he silently cried.

It had been a turning point. Up until then, he had just been existing. Taking care of Tony, yes, but stalled out on anything else beyond that. But getting himself back had turned a key that had allowed him to move forward, to finally claim a name for the both of them and build a real life.

This felt like that. Another turning point. An opportunity for things to get better, if he did it right.

He loved his boys so much. Tony more, simply because he’d known Tony longer, had so much more time with him, but he was coming to love Bruce just as much. If this was the break in the pattern he was hoping for, maybe now Bruce would finally be able to let James love him like the little boy so desperately needed and deserved.

It was all James wanted. It was all he ever wanted. For his boys, both of them, to be happy and safe.


	5. Hugs Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James eases some of Bruce's fears, the boys all catch a cold, and hugs help.
> 
> This chapter fills my Bruce Bingo square B1 – defective, and my BBB square Y3 – abandonment issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 5: Hugs Help  
> Collaborator: rebelmeg  
> Squares Filled: Bruce Bingo, B1 – defective  
> BBB, Y3 – abandonment issues  
> Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags: past child abuse, recovery, hurt/comfort, all the hugs  
> Summary: James eases some of Bruce's fears, the boys all catch a cold, and hugs help.  
> Word Count: 15,462

It got better. Almost like magic, and James was pretty sure he had Tony to thank for that. Tony, being the incredible ray of energetic sunshine he was, had always been something of a bridge between Bruce and James, making it easier for Bruce to be able to trust again, to see what it could be like to have a father that cared. A dad that loved and played and cuddled and gently scolded and kept them safe, rather than hurting.

The nightmares, as awful as they were, had been a big part of that. James found the boys sometimes, curled up together in one bed in the morning, and Tony had told him it was because the nightmares didn’t come back if you had someone with you. Which, he was right. The nightmares never did come back when Tony was there. Just some of that Tony magic.

Summertime came, and whenever James wasn’t working at the shop on the boardwalk, he was chasing the boys up and down the beach. Tony’s little friend Virginia had Tony wrapped around her finger, and wherever she went, Tony would follow. More often than not, Bruce would be the voice of reason, telling Tony they had to ask James first before they went anywhere. James didn’t want to think about what kind of a panic he might have experienced without Bruce there keeping Tony from wandering clear to the moon, following a pair of bouncing strawberry blonde pigtails.

One night in July, Tony nearly fell asleep at the dinner table because he and Virginia had literally been chasing each other all afternoon. Bruce had gotten tired of it and played in the break room at the shop for awhile, so he wasn’t exhausted to the point of falling asleep with his face in the rice.

Stifling a laugh, James shuffled Tony into one of his own old t-shirts, the neck nearly hanging off those little shoulders as the hem brushed the floor. It was too hot at night for anything else, so all of James’ old t-shirts had been repurposed into nightshirts for the boys. Tony was asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow, and all of a sudden James and Bruce were alone. They hadn’t spent more than a few minutes without Tony since that awful day at the Banner’s house, and James immediately wondered if Bruce was thinking about it too.

The little boy was quiet as he helped clean up dinner, standing on a stool by the sink and drying the clean silverware and cups as James passed them to him. Not that Bruce was loud anyway, but this seemed to be a more intense silence than usual.

“It’s weird having Tony be asleep this early, isn’t it?” James commented when they were done, putting away the dry dishes while Bruce did the silverware.

“It is. It’s really quiet.”

“We can watch TV for a little while, if you want. Or read some books. What do you want to do?”

Bruce stood there with his eyebrows furrowed and something wondering in his eyes. This had been something James had approached cautiously, suspecting that Bruce hadn’t had much of a choice in anything so far in his very short life. He had started slowly, offering Bruce a choice between two things they could have for dinner, or two stories at bedtime. 

His suspicions had been right, and Bruce had been astounded that he could choose what he wanted. So James ramped it up slowly, giving Bruce three choices, then four, finally working up to a point that he could tell Bruce that tomorrow he could pick dinner, and Bruce would be able to make that decision. It had been one of a hundred little things that normal people took for granted, but that James distinctly remembered finding it difficult when he was still trying to break free of his Hydra conditioning, with Tony in tow.

After a few long seconds of deliberation, Bruce made his decision. “TV. Can I still have a bedtime story after?”

“Of course you can, pal. You always get a bedtime story.”

* * *

Bruce picked “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” for his story, one of his favorites, and James loved being able to peek at him out of the corner of his eye and see Bruce smile as he traced the caterpillar holes in the pages with his little finger. 

Bruce’s smiles were always good to see. Tony smiled all the time, at the slightest things, and he laughed even easier. But Bruce was still so reserved, shy and quiet even when it was just the three of them, so knowing that he was content enough to let his smile out gave James a warm feeling. Like he was succeeding.

They still had a few minutes before bedtime, and James was about to suggest another story when they heard a shuffling in the hall, and Tony appeared, half-asleep and rubbing his eyes.

“Daddy? Where’s Bruce?” He mumbled sleepily, and James smiled as he shifted Bruce gently off his lap and went over to pick Tony up.

“He’s right here, bud. You fell asleep early.”

“Mmm.” Tony sighed and snuggled right into his dad’s embrace, his arms limply hanging over James’ shoulders. And then he made a tiny snoring sound, already asleep again.

James chuckled and rocked him in place for a moment, running a hand through those loose dark curls and kissing his forehead. He loved this kid with every fiber of his being.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Bruce. “You wanna come to bed now, or in a minute?”

Bruce was already looking at him and Tony, an unreadable expression on his face. “In a minute.” He said quietly, before looking at the book in his lap.

James paused, sensing something was wrong, and he walked over to ruffle Bruce’s curls too. “Be right back, okay? You can pick another story if you want.”

He got Tony tucked back in, rubbing his tummy for a minute when he squirmed restlessly, waiting for him to settle into sleep again. Then it was time to find out what was going on with Bruce.

He was right where James had left him on the couch, tracing his fingers over the words on the cover of the book they’d already read. He looked up when James came in, and before James could do or say anything, he asked in the smallest, saddest voice, “Am I bad? Is it my fault that my mama died? Am I broken?”

“Oh, honey.” James nearly fell over in shock, and his heart just broke. He was crossing the room and reaching out without thinking, but he managed to make himself stop, to look at Bruce and ask first. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

Eyes filled with tears, Bruce nodded, lifting his arms so James could pick him up and wrap him in a hug. 

That was another breakthrough they’d had fairly recently; Bruce crying. James hadn’t asked, but he was pretty sure that any crying had been punished severely in the Banner household. The first time Bruce had teared up had been because he’d torn up his knee really bad tripping on the sidewalk, and when he saw James coming he flinched so bad he’d nearly fallen over. James had held him, kissing his head and telling him it would be okay, and it was okay to cry. Bruce didn’t, had sniffled back his tears and refused to let them fall, but the next time he’d woken up from a particularly bad nightmare, bad enough that he woke up screaming, James had held again him while he cried.

He held him the same way now, Bruce’s legs around his ribs and his arms around James’ neck like a baby koala, held up and held close in James’ arms.

James sighed heavily as he sat down, rocking slightly back and forth. “Bruce, sweetie, it’s not your fault. It’s not, none of it. It’s not your fault that your dad was a bad person, and it’s not your fault that he hurt you and your mom. It’s not your fault that he hurt your mom so bad she died. None of that is your fault.” He pulled back just enough to cup Bruce’s cheek in one hand, smoothing away a few tears. “You are such a good kid, Bruce. You are sweet and kind and so smart. And Tony and I love you. We will always love you, no matter what. You are not a bad person, you are not broken, and it is not your fault.”

“I made it different.” Bruce sniffled, trying to blink away his tears. “You and Tony aren’t buddies anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re still buddies.”

“But now I’m here too.”

“Oh, Bruce.” James folded the kid back into his arms, sighing. “Do you have any idea how glad I am that you’re here too? How lucky I am that I get to have you and Tony both as my kids? I’m the luckiest person in the world, because you two make me a better person just by being in my life.”

There was a pause as Bruce thought that over.

“Why didn’t I make my other dad a better person?” Bruce asked, his voice soft and trembling.

“Because he had no idea how lucky he was to have you, Bruce. Because his own demons inside his head were just too big. It’s not your fault. Do you believe me?”

Bruce nodded a little, his head rubbing against James’ chest. “I think so.”

“Any time you need me to tell you again, I will. I promise."

"You're not gonna go away, right? Not like my mama or my other dad?"

James had to blink back tears. "Never. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you or Tony. We're gonna be together always, because we're a family. Right?"

Bruce nodded again, glancing up at James through his eyelashes, hope just starting to come back into his eyes.

"I love you, Bruce. No matter what. I will always love you.”

* * *

The weather cooled down a little bit once autumn arrived, and the summer crowds thinned out a little. The boardwalk did business all year long, but James would only be able to work part time in the winter. He got to work finding another job to make up the difference, and couldn’t help but laugh at the way both his boys kept suggesting that he deliver pizzas. He was pretty sure they just wanted him to bring pizza home every night, which did have its appeal.

The boys started first grade, and full-time school was just weird for all of them. James was glad he wasn’t home all day, feeling how empty the house was without Tony and Bruce there.

Getting back to school meant exposure to fun new germs from the other kids, and both boys caught colds near the end of September. Not bad, just sniffles and sore throats and general bleh-ness for a couple days. James kept them home from school and supervised the distribution of orange juice, lots of water, chicken noodle soup, loads of tissues, and extra cuddle time if they needed it. Tony spent most of the day curled up on James lap as he let them watch TV on the couch, and Bruce even leaned over a few times too, snuggling into his side. Those were pretty good times.

That night James paused in the hall while the boys got their pajamas on, hearing his name, and he stayed to listen for a minute.

“When I don’t feel good, I ask Daddy for a hug. Hugs help.” Tony was saying. “I can give you a hug, if you want?”

James peeked around the doorway to see Bruce nodding, his little nose red and swollen from being sick, and then Tony was throwing his arms around him and squeezing almost too tight.

“There. Do you feel better?”

“Maybe… a little?” Bless his heart, Bruce actually looked kind of surprised.

“Daddy gives better hugs.” Tony promised as he put his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper, his voice slightly congested from his cold. “He hugs you with his whole body, and his arms are so big. He’ll give you a hug if you want one.”

James had to admit, he would dearly love to give Bruce any amount of hugs he asked for. Bruce could never have enough hugs, neither of his boys could. Going into the boys’ room, he ruffled the hair on both their heads. “Hey there, my little sickies. You ready to brush your teeth?”

Tony reached up and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout that wasn't convincing at all. “Carry me?”

James snorted a laugh at his antics and picked Tony up. “You want to be carried too, Bruce?”

He thought about it for a second, then nodded, holding his arms up too. Feeling all kinds of warm inside, James scooped Bruce up too and carried both boys to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

He had just tucked them both in bed half an hour later, after teeth and story time, when Bruce reached up and tugged at the hem of his shirt when James kissed his forehead.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Could… Can I have a hug?”

James’ eyes went wide, and then he smiled. “Of course you can, sweetie. Come here.” 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped Bruce up into a hug, trying to be gentle, but when Bruce wrapped his arms around James’ neck and squeezed, James squeezed back.

He wasn’t upset at all when Tony slid out of his bed and joined them. Hugs were better than bedtime anyway.

* * *

To James’ very great surprise, he caught the cold too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sick, and had assumed that the supersoldier serum would protect him from most everything. And really, he didn’t get that sick, but he was still surprised at how tired he felt. 

He was lucky enough to call in sick from work, and spent most of the day on the couch, dozing off occasionally and trying to remember to drink extra water.

Tony went into immediate nurse-mode when he and Bruce got home from school, bringing James a cup of juice and half the snacks in the kitchen and a book and a blanket and and extra pillow and he would have kept going if James didn’t laugh tiredly and beg him to stop.

Bruce lingered, seeming unsure of what to do while Tony insisted on getting one more pillow, and his gaze kept darting to James and then away again. Finally, James asked, “You okay, Bruce? How was school today?”

“Good. Teacher read us a book and me and Tony played at recess. We had spaghetti for lunch.”

“That sounds like a pretty good day.”

Bruce nodded, then fell into his awkward silence again. James waited, not certain what was up, then Bruce finally looked at him. “Do you feel bad because you’re sick?”

His concern was touching and endearing. “Oh, not too bad. Just tired and sick, but I’ll be okay soon.”

All big-eyed and uncertain, the little boy whispered, “Do you want a hug?”

James nearly burst into tears, but he held it back as he nodded. “Yeah, honey. If you’re offering, I want a hug.”

The first step was tentative, but then Bruce flung himself at James with his arms open wide.

“Hugs help,” He whispered, those small arms wrapped around James’ neck.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” James murmured back, sniffling and blinking back tears that had nothing to do with his cold as he hugged his little boy. “Your hugs definitely help.”


	6. The Best Christmas Present Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes around, Bruce makes more progress, and James and Tony have never been happier.
> 
> Written for my Bruce Bingo square R5 – happy memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has my very favorite part of the whole fic, so I'm really excited to release it into the wild!

It was almost criminal, how adorable and simultaneously disastrous Bruce and Tony could be, especially when they both got wrapped up in some kind of science-guided mischief. They were so smart, just six years old and still able to think through things and figure things out that James sometimes struggled with. There was even talk of both of them skipping a grade, and James didn’t know if he was proud or terrified. The kitchen was constantly hosting one kind of experiment or another, there was a consistent stack of library books in the living room about different kinds of science, and both boys had a tiny lab coat and a pair of protective goggles to wear when they got their inner mad scientists going. James had been squirreling away money for months, and he was going to have enough to get a chemistry set and a robotics set for the two of them to share.

Christmas time was approaching, and there was a little four-foot tall tree in the living room that they had covered with lights and tinsel and ornaments. James was taking great enjoyment in the excitement that seemed to increase tenfold every day as the holiday grew closer, especially since this was the first real Christmas they’d be sharing with Bruce. 

Last year had just been too close to all the bad things that had happened, and while there had been presents, it was much more solemn than Christmas usually was. So he was making up for it this year, and he gave the boys free rein to decorate as they saw fit. There were crooked and colorful paper garlands strung from one end of the house to the other, and colored pictures of Santa and reindeer and elves and stockings on all the doors. Tinsel was _everywhere_ , and James had even managed to make some fairly decent gingerbread cookies for the three of them to frost and decorate.

Two days before Christmas, they were almost unmanageable for the excitement, and bedtime was more like extra playtime than anything.

“Tickle me, Daddy!” Tony flung himself across James’ knees once he got his pajamas on, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling.

“Tickle you?” James raised his eyebrow and made his voice sound incredulous. “Tickle you?! What is this, asking for tickles?” It was actually a thing he had unintentionally started when Tony was a toddler, when he first noticed how ticklish Tony was on his neck. He had taken to asking if Tony wanted tickles (he would ask Tony if he wanted anything that wasn’t necessary, some part of his brain always focused on consent), and Tony had picked up on it quick, frequently asking to be tickled. 

“Yes! Tickles!” Tony shouted, throwing his arms over his head in a blatant taunt for James to tickle under them.

“I certainly can’t say no to that.” James went for it, his hands skating up and down and tickling in all of Tony’s ticklish places. His collarbone, his ribs, behind his knees, under his arms, his feet. Bruce was sitting by the little bookshelf, his story for the night in his hands, and he was grinning as he watched. 

James took a break, letting Tony catch his breath, and smiled over at Bruce. “How about you, buddy? You wanna be tickled too?”

Bruce looked uncertain, and yet he still shifted a little closer when Tony demanded to be tickled again, and was lost in a storm of laughing when James obliged.

“Do the little mouse!” Tony giggled, having slid right off James’ lap and onto the floor, his face pink from exertion.

James started at Tony’s ankle and tiptoed his fingers up his leg as he sang the familiar little rhyme. “Here comes a little mouse, lookin’ for a little house. Where’s he gonna find one? Right down there!” He tickled Tony’s tummy at the end, then glanced at Bruce again while Tony shrieked. He had crept closer, and while he still hovered uncertainly just out of reach, he also looked like he wanted to participate too.

“Bruce, try the little mouse!” Tony encouraged, flinging an arm at him. “It tickles!”

Bruce looked at James, and James smiled at him. “I can if you want, pal. It's your choice.”

Still looking nervous, Bruce finally nodded hesitantly and scooted within reach. He carefully held out his arm, fragile trust and anxiety warring on his face, but James just gently took his hand, and tiptoed his fingers up Bruce’s arm.

“Here comes a little mouse, lookin’ for a little house. Where’s he gonna find one? Right down there!” 

The start of the rhyme had Bruce smiling, and then when James tickled his fingers against Bruce’s collarbone, it startled a giggle out of him.

“I told you it was fun!” Tony had come up on his knees and scooted in close. “My turn!”

So James went back and forth, doing the song and tiptoeing the "little mouse" around each of the boys in turn, until both of them were breathless with laughter and rolling on the floor.

“Maybe I should hang you upside down and rub my beard on your toes, see if that tickles too.” James threatened with a chuckle, tickling both their bellies and utterly loving the sound of both his boys laughing. It was just the best thing in the world.

Bruce grabbed onto James’ hand with both of his, fending him off as he kept giggling. “Daddy, no!”

Tony was also shrieking with laughter, rolling over onto his tummy when James’ hand on him suddenly went slack, giggling into the carpet.

James stared at Bruce, eyes wide and mouth open, suddenly not sure he could have possibly heard what he thought he’d heard. Bruce’s eyes were huge too, unreadable, and he didn’t let go of James’ hand as he asked, so quietly, “Can—c-can I call you Daddy?”

“Yes,” James croaked out immediately, trying to blink away tears as he smiled so hard it hurt. “Yes, buddy, of course you can.”

Bruce smiled shyly, showing off the gap in his teeth where his first loose tooth had fallen out a few days ago. “Okay.”

“Daddy!” Tony sounded somewhat perturbed. “Why did you stop tickling?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, am I not tickling you enough?” James went back to it with great fervor, tickling both boys until they were breathless again and gasping for him to stop. Still chuckling, smiling so wide his cheeks ached, James scooped them both up and tossed them over his shoulders. “Alright, no more getting rowdy this close to bed. We’ve gotta get back into that school routine soon, so you two better go brush your teeth. Whatcha waiting for?”

“But we’re stuck!” Tony hollered, grabbing handfuls of James’ shirt and pushing himself up on his arms, kicking his feet dangerously close to his dad’s nose.

“Stuck? Stuck how? You can’t be stuck, you must be trying to be naughty!” James tickled at Tony’s feet, then Bruce’s for good measure.

Bruce was giggling again, his arms wrapped around James’ waist as he hung upside down. “Daddy, you have to put us down!”

There it was again, that word coming out of Bruce’s mouth, and James felt like his heart just might burst. “Put you down? Put you down where? In the sink?”

“No!” Both of them shouted together, and Tony even hauled himself up so he could brace his hands against the door frame of the kitchen where James had paused. 

“Theeeeeen maybe the coffee table?” He went into the living room instead.

“No!” They giggled again.

“Outside?”

“Yes!” Tony yelled at the same time Bruce yelled, “No!”

“Maybe the couch would be a good compromise,” James decided, crouching down so he could slide the both of them off his shoulders, landing upside down and laughing on the couch cushions. He gave them a quick grin, then made to sit down on them. “Mind if I sit here?”

“No!” They both scrambled out of the way, and then Tony was flinging himself back at James and trying to barrel him into the cushions. Bruce only hesitated for a moment, then he did too, the both of them accomplishing nearly nothing as their little hands pushed at James’ chest.

Bedtime took awhile that night, an irrepressible cheerfulness permeating the whole house. All three of them kept laughing at the silliest things, and when they all finally sat on the couch for story time, James nearly felt winded.

He got all the way through “Frog and Toad” (Bruce’s pick) and halfway through “The Lorax” (Tony’s pick) before the boys fell asleep where they were, sprawled over his lap and partway over each other. James sat there for a few minutes after he trailed off with his reading, just enjoying the fact that today had been just about the most perfect day that could possibly exist.

He couldn’t even remember what had happened earlier that day, it hadn’t been important. All that mattered was that tonight, both his boys had been laughing fit to burst, and that for the first time, Bruce had called him Daddy. It was the best Christmas present he could possibly have asked for.

* * *

“Daddy?”

James woke up instantly, sitting up to see Bruce hovering in the doorway in the dark.

“Hey, buddy. You okay?”

His voice was small and trembling from crying. “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Come here.” James patted the bed beside him, helping Bruce up when he came over. There were tears on his cheeks and he was making little whimpering noises that just about broke James’ heart. He wiped away the tear streaks with the corner of his sheet, then pulled Bruce into a hug and laid them both down with Bruce on his chest. “Here we go. You can stay right here until you feel better. You wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

Bruce burrowed a little closer and shook his head, his whole body curling into James while his little hands clenched into James’ pajama shirt. He sniffled a little, and James could feel a small wet spot growing as he smoothed Bruce’s curls away from his forehead.

“You’re okay now, buddy. I’m right here. We’ll see if we can chase those nightmares away. Is Tony still asleep?”

Bruce nodded, his face still buried in James’ chest. He was a little too sleepy to fully register what a milestone this was, Bruce coming to him first with his tears instead of Tony, but James still felt warmth spreading through him as he wrapped the little boy in his arms.

“Okay.” He slowly rubbed Bruce’s back, waiting for the little shudders to stop. “Tony likes it when I sing a song, sometimes. You want a song?”

Bruce nodded, and James went with the one he knew best, “Your Song” by Elton John. He’d been singing it to Tony since he was a baby, having heard it on the radio once and fallen instantly in love. The melody was easy to slow down and lengthen into more of a lullaby, and Bruce was breathing deep and easy by the time he was done.

James kept rubbing his back, loving that he could easily feel and hear him breathing. It was comforting, and reminded him of when Tony was a baby, the nights when James wasn’t doing well and could sometimes fall asleep with Tony on his chest.

After a little while, James’ hand slowed and finally stopped, resting warm on Bruce’s back, and both of them slept peacefully, with no more nightmares, for the rest of the night.

At least, until Tony came leaping into bed the next morning just after six a.m., shouting at the top of his lungs that it was Christmas Eve and he needed peppermint hot chocolate.


	7. Wouldn't Change A Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys grow up, go to school, and turn into the men they were meant to be, with James right there with them.
> 
> For my **Bruce Bingo square R3 – "it feels too good to let it end right here"** (yes, I am taking those lyrics entirely out of context), and for my **BBB K3 – gray hair**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 7: Wouldn't Change A Thing  
> Collaborator: rebelmeg  
> Squares Filled: Bruce Bingo, R3 – "it feels too good to let it end right here"  
> BBB, K3 – gray hair  
> Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags: fluff and good feels, sass and silliness  
> Summary: The boys grow up, go to school, and turn into the men they were meant to be, with James right there with them.  
> Word Count: 20,336

_1986_

It was very clear, even before the boys got to junior high, that they needed to go to good colleges. They could get a good education anywhere, James was sure, but he wanted the best for his boys, if they wanted it.

So he started early. It was tough, scraping together even meager savings when there were three mouths to feed, one of whom was a supersoldier and two of whom were bottomless preteen pits. James had _no idea_ how it was physically possible for his sons to out-eat him, but they did. The grocery bill was astronomical, but with a few tricks and a few new recipes, James made it work (his kids would go hungry over his dead body) and he managed to put away a little money every month into a small savings fund for college.

The small savings added up, as the months turned into years, and the preteens sprouted several inches and became young men.

If James stood back and really studied them, he could pick it out easily that the two boys, and even himself, didn’t share many similar features. Bruce and Tony were close-ish, their hair was dark brown and their eyes were brown, so at least their coloring was the same, and went along with James’ brown hair. But Bruce’s chin was much broader, and his eyes were deep-set, while Tony had a longer, narrower facial structure and big Bambi eyes with thick lashes. 

Nobody seemed to be looking that closely, though, or at least they never mentioned it to James. Nobody so much as asked him if Bruce and Tony were his, it was automatically assumed, and he liked it that way, thanks very much. He was the father of two incredibly smart sons, brothers that, if anyone did happen to ask, were from two different mothers, but James was their father.

Their very, very proud father when they both earned scholarships to MIT, determined to go to college together and take James along with them. He had saved a pretty decent amount over the years, enough to cover the cost of everything once the scholarship money ran out, and both his sons planned to make top grades so they could maintain their scholarships for next year as well, in addition to taking part time jobs.

They moved to Massachusetts as soon as high school ended, moving into a tiny house with a garage that the boys immediately took over as their own, and James didn’t even flinch anymore when he heard suspicious noises and small explosions coming out of it. Tony had always had a keen eye for machinery, so he was going to study mechanical engineering first while Bruce tackled biochemistry. Yes, they both had plans to become mad scientists and take over the world, so they were making plans for at least two degrees each.

“Maybe we’ll be the ones that put people on Mars!” Bruce had gushed once when they were discussing it, and Tony had scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? We’ll be the people that _go_ to Mars!”

James couldn’t help but sincerely hope they didn’t. He didn’t think he could take that kind of stress.

* * *

Tony, as per usual, had instantly made a friend the moment he’d set foot on campus before the semester started. James Rhodes was a black kid from Philadelphia, and he seemed just as smart as Tony and Bruce, which meant that he was inexorably sucked into the garage the first time he came over, and the three didn’t come out for hours. James had to stand at the door with the pan of sloppy joe meat, wafting the smell into the crack before they tumbled back out again, utterly famished and talking a mile a minute about robots and androids.

Was it overwhelming and somewhat disturbing, being the father and sole parent of these two outrageously smart kids? Especially when an enormous pot of sloppy joe mix, an entire 24-pack of hamburger buns, two full bags of chips, and a gallon of ice cream had disappeared in less than an hour? Yes. Yes it was. 

But James wouldn’t have changed a bit of it. Not for anything. He had two boys that were smart and sarcastic as anything, absolutely _relentless_ when they set their minds to something, and had hearts of gold inside them. If there was a better way to succeed, James didn't know it.

* * *

Tony walked Rhodey to the door later that night, the two of them deep in conversation about the future of robotics. In the living room, James was halfway to nodding off on the sofa when Bruce, who was perusing one of his new textbooks, looked up. He'd been thinking about something recently, and had something to say.

“Hey Dad?”

“Hmm?" His head popped up from where it had just been starting to nod. "Yeah, what’s up?”

“Can I tell you something?”

James sat up and rubbed at his eyes, obviously sensing the seriousness of Bruce’s request. “Yeah, of course, you can always tell me anything. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” Bruce was quiet for a few seconds, thinking, then he met his dad’s eyes. “I remember before. Before you and Tony.”

James went very still, eerily so, and his eyes were wide as he looked at Bruce.

“Not a lot,” He continued, “I think my brain has blocked a lot of it out. But I remember enough.” He regretted the expression on James’ face, the obvious fear, and he didn’t stall or mince words for dramatic effect. “You saved me.”

A tremble went through James’ body. Bruce smiled, just the tiniest bit to console his poor dad's nerves, and continued.

“You saved my life. I… I was so scared, all the time. I didn’t know what happiness even felt like, not until Tony. And I didn’t know what safe felt like, not until you.”

His dad was holding back tears now, his eyes going red and his breath shuddering a little bit even though his broad shoulders were so tight they were like marble.

“I just wanted to say... thank you for saving me. I love you, Dad.”

Gasping out a sob, James all but lunged for him, and Bruce went into those arms happily, returning that almost too-tight embrace.

“I’ve never regretted it.” James said shakily, not letting go as they stood in the middle of the room, clinging to each other. “Not for one minute. I love you like you’re mine.”

“I _am_ yours. The three of us… we’re a family. We belong together.”

Another sob wrenched its way out of James’ chest, but Bruce just held on and closed his eyes. And a couple minutes later, when Tony’s arms came around them both, he was folded into the embrace too.

“I’m so proud of you both.” James whispered, an arm around each of them. “And I love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Dad.” Tony murmured back, his arms squeezing just a little tighter around his father and his brother.

“We do.” Bruce confirmed, reveling in the overwhelming love and security he felt with his family.

It was hard, sometimes, to think back to what his life had been like before. Some parts of it he could barely remember, and some parts he wished he could forget. But with every year that passed, as he continued to grow up with his brother at his side and his dad in front or behind or beside, or anywhere else they needed him, Bruce was more grateful for how it had all ended up. The good memories far outnumbered the bad ones, and on the nights that he still had nightmares, Tony would still stumble across the room, not even really awake, and crawl into bed with him. They were too big for it now, even though they still hadn’t really grown into their long, gangly limbs, and it wasn’t unusual for Tony to fall out of bed before morning.

But he didn’t mind, and it was a proven fact that Tony chased the nightmares away. Sometimes, when it got really bad, their dad still cried out at night, and woke up at a touch with wild, haunted eyes. But nobody could stop Tony from being a live-in nightmare deterrent, and if Bruce was awake too, he’d follow his brother right into their dad’s bed, squished up together and nearly uncomfortable, but after so many years of this routine, it was too late to break it. So James just compromised and bought a bigger bed. Then Tony could sprawl on his stomach like he’d come to enjoy, Bruce could curl up in the fetal position like he still preferred, and James could lie on his back, with an arm always free for hugging if one or both of his sons needed it.

There were big changes coming, Bruce knew that. College would change everything, their whole lives, and he knew it was impossible to hope that things would stay the same. Sooner or later, it would all be different.

But he did take comfort in one thing.

No matter what changed, no matter what circumstances and fate brought them, Bruce knew that if there was one thing he could always count on, it was his family. His dad that had risked everything for him, and the brother that had helped him save Bruce’s life.

What more could he possibly ask for?

* * *

_2012_

“Um, Mr. Stark?” The SHIELD agent was looking at Tony and his two guests uncertainly as they got off the small private jet that had just landed on the deck of the Helicarrier. “We were told you’d be coming alone.”

“Oh, were you?” Tony asked airily. “Well, misinformation runs rampant these days.” He didn’t comment further on the two men with him, one with dark curly hair and glasses, the other with graying hair and the posture of a soldier.

“I’ll just, um… let Agent Coulson know you’ve arrived.” The agent hurried off, leaving Tony smirking in their wake. Next to him, Bruce rolled his eyes.

“You are the biggest troublemaker I know, which I kind of feel like you should be ashamed of, seeing as how you’re in your forties.”

“You’re older than I am, and besides, you know you want to play with the big shiny science machines with me! And you know radiation a hundred times better than me, they’ll need you more than Iron Man anyway.” 

“First of all, they asked _you_ here, not your superhero persona.”

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. “Sheesh, you call yourself a superhero _one time_ …”

“Well, you kind of are.” Bruce smiled at him, pride and admiration in his eyes right alongside humor and fondness. “And secondly, you are younger than me by five months. Five. It basically doesn’t count anymore.”

Tony reached over and ruffled Bruce’s hair, talking a little louder over the noise of a jet on the far end of the deck that was coasting to a takeoff position. “Excuse you, I don’t see any gray hairs on my head! Lookit you, all sparkly and shit with your silver going on.”

Bruce batted him away and started in on a tirade about genetics while James followed behind the two of them, grinning at how nearly forty years hadn’t changed the two of them at all. They were still two trouble-making boys that got all excited to do science and enjoyed teasing each other.

“Oh, I forgot to ask, is Betty coming?”

“Yes, Betty’s coming, and she wants to know if Pepper is coming.”

“Of course Pepper is coming, she can’t miss this! And besides, her very questionable friendship with Agent basically guarantees that she’ll have to do a minimum of sweet-talking for them to let her in. She’s just dropping the kids off with her mom, then we’ll get to do the horizontal tango while on an invisible helicarrier.” Tony did something vaguely obscene with his hips, earning him a shove from Bruce (who was smiling but trying to hide it).

“I can’t believe you’re willing to compromise a secret government agency because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Um, I do so hate to bring this up, but you and I both know that Pepper is absolutely the kinky one in this relationship—”

Bruce covered his ears and shouted, “NOPE, NO, STOP, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE OF THIS!”

Tony was cackling, and he turned to see what their dad thought of this, but James had disappeared. A few seconds of scanning the flat expanse of the flight deck and Tony spotted him (it wasn’t hard, James was trying out the long hair thing again) a short distance away, talking to a vaguely familiar figure.

James and Steve Rogers had been exchanging letters for months now (“Ugh, Dad, we have this cool thing called _email_ now, you should get on that wild ride.” “Shut up, buster, I taught you how to read and I won’t stand for this disrespect.” “I cannot believe you just said that, good gracious, your _age_ is _showing_! Hey, no, don’t touch the hair!”), but this was their first time meeting face to face since 1945. A whole lot had happened in the past sixty-seven years, and unlike Steve, a lot of those years were written on James’ face. It had to be hard, for both of them.

“Should we wait?” Bruce asked, having come to a stop next to Tony. “Or did you wanna go face off with Agent?”

“I love that I’ve got you calling him that now.”

“Yeah, you’re catching like that.”

“You make me sound like a contagious disease.”

“You said it, not me.”

By the time James joined them a minute later, with Steve by his side, Tony and Bruce were in the middle of a playground slap fight, legitimately giggling while Bruce flipped Tony’s tie out of place and Tony knocked Bruce’s glasses askew while trying to give him a wet willy.

“So, these are your… sons?” Steve asked, looking bewildered, amused, and somewhat disapproving all at once.

“Yup, they’re mine.” James said with a sigh, shaking his head. “And yeah, they’re always like this.”

“It’s nice to meet you?” Steve didn’t sound sure about that at all, but he finally got Bruce and Tony’s attention.

“Hey, Capsicle!” Tony said, still laughing as he held out his hand. “You look good for ninety-four!”

James and Bruce facepalmed in an identical fashion, and it was so seamless, as if choreographed, that Steve seemed to be distracted from his surge of irritation.

“Tony, I love you, but shut up.” James said in a Very Tired Dad fashion, and Steve couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of his mouth. Tony shot him a dirty look, but Bruce was snickering into his hand and earned a fierce, but not very convincing, glare.

“I’m going to disown both of you,” Tony threatened, though he knew he was fooling nobody with that empty threat.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will. Steve, these are my sons. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.”

“Buchannan.” Tony and Bruce said in unison, and James wasn’t quite able to hide the slight flush on his cheeks. He made a show of herding the three of them towards the entrance to the rest of the helicarrier. 

“Let’s go inside before anyone gets thrown over the edge. I’m too old for that kind of malarkey.”

“You just said _malarkey_!” Tony shrieked, clinging to his dad’s arm and shaking it. “I can’t believe you just used that legitimately old fogey word!”

“Maybe that disowning isn’t a bad idea,” James sighed as Tony switched to clinging to Bruce’s arm next.

“Did you hear that, Bruce?! He said malarkey! We’re going to have to have him committed soon, so he can be cared for in his old age.”

“Soon he’ll be wearing dentures and forgetting our names.” Bruce nodded sagely. “It happens to us all.”

James reached out with those lightning-quick reflexes of his, and captured both of their heads, one under each arm. They both squawked with surprise and indignation, walking along bent over and flailing while James just held on amidst their ruckus.

“Sorry about this, Steve.” He said, raising his voice to be heard as SHIELD agents, pilots, and techs all watched them pass by with wide eyes. “Kids, you know.”

Steve was likewise wide-eyed and staring, but there was a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth. “You wanna know something?”

“Hmm?” James replied casually, still walking along leisurely with his sons’ heads tucked under his arms.

“Being a dad suits you.”

He grinned, the laugh lines around his mouth deepening, and shook a few strands of graying brown hair out of his eyes. “Thanks. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Steve grinned then too, looking down at the two full-grown men that were loudly protesting at James’ sides. “You sure?”

“Yep.” James said confidently, finally letting Tony and Bruce go. “They’re a mess, but they’re my mess.”

“And you’re lucky we like you,” Tony huffed, straightening his jacket and tie and smoothing his hair. 

“Ya big goon.” Bruce added, adjusting his glasses and swatting at his dad’s shoulder.

James just smiled, hands now in his pockets, and strolled along looking utterly at ease. “Yeah. I know. Love you too. Now let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got a world to save.”


End file.
